


The Case of the Crumpled Paper

by Keiraskinder



Category: Chernobyl (TV 2019)
Genre: AU, Humor, M/M, OOC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-16 23:34:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19942000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keiraskinder/pseuds/Keiraskinder
Summary: OOC. Boris finds a mysterious document.AU. Chernobyl HBO setting but there is no mention of radiation or tragedy.





	The Case of the Crumpled Paper

**Author's Note:**

  * For [karamavozsister](https://archiveofourown.org/users/karamavozsister/gifts).



> This is not about real people.  
> I own nothing.  
> Please do not repost.  
> Not a native speaker.  
> Unbetaed.

\- It’s International Nuclear Scientist Day! - Boris says cheerfully, putting a big wrapped parcel on the table in front of Valery.

\- Is it?.. - Valery asks uncertainly, raising his head from his notes. – I didn’t even know such day existed?..

\- Well you do now, so come on - open your present! 

Valery unwraps the parcel mumbling his Thank-yous and You-shouldn’t-haves. Then, his eyes grow bigger. His face is getting a lovely shade of pink. 

Boris got this wonderful souvenir at the downtown marketplace. It’s an iron cast sculpture, about 20 inches height. It features two naked men in a tight embrace. They are holding hammers in their hands. A sculptor put all his soul (and obviously his size kink) into working on their private parts. 

\- It’s called “The Workers of the World”, - Boris declares proudly. 

The Workers of the World look like they are quite ready to go at it at once. They have these obscene sneers on their faces. For some reason the sculptor placed Workers’ embracing hands a bit lower than propriety allows. One of them is nearly grabbing the other’s arse. High art, Boris muses.

\- The guy at the shop says it’s a rarity. The sculptor is Tchaikovsky!

\- Err… But.. Wasn’t Tchaikovsky a composer?..

\- He was?.. – Boris is slightly taken aback but not for long. – Well, he must’ve done a bit of sculpturing in his spare time. Now. Where are we going to put it?

\- Put it?.. – Valery is alarmed. – But isn’t it a bit.. I mean… What if someone sees it?

\- But of course! Everyone should see it! That’s what it’s for, it’s art!

Boris places the cheeky Workers in the middle of Valery’s desk. Valery is watching him in horror.

\- Workers of the World.. – Boris says fondly. – Like brothers in arms. Isn’t that a noble sentiment. I hope each time you look at them you will think of you and me, - he says meaningfully, turning to Valery and patting the nearest Worker on his leg. 

\- I am sure I will, - Valery squeaks.

Boris has made yet another purchase when he went downtown yesterday. A small bottle with yellowish substance. “Magic Appeal”, the label says.

\- Create physical attraction, them pheromones, - the guy explained to him. – Got this from France! And er Missus, she will get feral. Ain’t got no smell, but it works fine. 

So, today in the morning Boris applied a generous amount of Magic Appeal to his neck and chest and even lower, just in case. Unfortunately, the “no smell” part appeared to be a blatant lie. The resourceful sod must’ve poured his cat’s piss into the bottle. Soldiers turned their heads when Boris was passing by on his way to the office.

Hopefully pheromones are working. Attracting Valery to Boris in their invisible stinky way. 

\- What’s this smell? – Valery asks anxiously. –Could we have a dead rat under the floor or something?

Well, maybe they are not working after all.  
At least Valery loved The Workers, Boris consoles himself. 

The man also tried to sell him couple of pink lace thongs for the “Missus”, but Boris voted against it. The color just did not match Valery’s eyes.

The day goes on as usual. In the evening, Boris returns to his room. He praises himself on the Nuclear Scientist Day idea. He would love to shower Valery with gifts and candies and flowers and pink underwear every single day. But you’ve got to have some reason, not to look too obsessive.

Boris turns the tele on. It’s an old romantic movie. The hero has just started confessing his undying love.

Boris’ infatuation with Valery is actually pretty innocent and cliché. He is a simple man. His fantasies include courting Valery in an old-fashioned way, holding hands, exchanging long Meaningful Stares, maybe a chaste kiss under the moonlight. At night, his thoughts certainly do take another turn, to be honest. But he always tries to push those indecent urges away.

Because Valery is so naive and innocent and pristine. Anything filthy just wouldn’t apply to him.

\- I will protect you, my love, - the actor says in this Deep Manly Voice and slowly kisses his lady’s hand, never breaking the eye contact. His vis-a-vis is looking at him with adoration.

Something of the kind, Boris nods approvingly. Even though kissing Valery’s hand in public might be slightly over the top. People wouldn’t understand.

He signs and goes to the bathroom.  
There’s no toilet paper. Great.

It’s eleven p.m., no round-the-clock room service in the hotel. So, Boris goes to the ground floor to check the dust bins outside for some sort of substitute. He fishes couple of crumpled papers out of the nearest one and quickly pockets them. 

In his room, Boris takes his trophy out. The papers are peppered with someone’s neat handwriting, and words catch Boris eye. He starts reading.

WHA...  
WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK????

Boris has to grab at the table in order not to fall down. He rubs his eyes, just in case they fail him, and pinches his arm couple of times thinking that he may be delusional. 

_“ – Not so fast Boris, I can’t last much longer… - Valery moaned._  


_Boris slowly licked his lips looking him straight in the eye and lowered his head to Valery’s cock, taking the tip inside his hot wet mouth._  
_The intense pleasure threatened to overwhelm Valery, as Boris…”_

Good Heavens.

Boris has to cover his mouth with both hands so that he doesn't scream out aloud. The papers solemnly land on the floor. Boris is watching their flight, aghast.  
He is glad no one can see him.

But WHO?... And HOW?.. And WHY, for fuck’s sake???...

No. Wait. Don’t panic. No doubt, it’s a pure coincidence. Some perverted asshole wrote this as a practical joke and inserted their names because… well, just because. Who is this devious bastard, that’s the question. Tomorrow, Boris will start an investigation in order to find and punish those responsible. And he is not ruling out American sabotage, either! Those foreigners!

Thank God it was him and not Valery who found these. The man would’ve surely had a heart attack.

No Sir. No filthy scribblings will shake the Deputy Chairman’s self-control. He resolutely shoves the damn papers into the dust bin, turns off the light and goes to bed.

* * *

In the morning, Boris feels very, very tired and sleepy.

That’s what obviously happens after a night of non-stop wanking at his age. Needless to say, he ended up reading and re-reading the bloody thing all night long!

When leaving his room in the morning, he stuck the papers in his pocket afraid that the maid would find them and destroy or – worse – read.

_“Boris placed Valery’s legs on his shoulders and kissed his ankle._ _It sent an electric jolt down Valery’s spine, and he shuddered with want. He could not wait to have this gorgeous man inside of him, claiming him, owning him completely…”_

At breakfast, Boris keeps looking around nervously, as if expecting the anonymous writer to suddenly jump from the corner revealing his shameful secret to the world. Papers burn his pocket. Everyone, just everyone in the cafeteria looks suspicious.

Could it be the cook? Just check out those phallic-shaped sausages the man is crafting! Really!

Tarakanov?.. But the guy is as straight as a shovel. And he probably would have some problems spelling “perineum”. Those military men, they are not very much into literature.

Aha! The doctor! That slick sod could definitely write it. On his last check-up visit, he made Boris undress completely just to measure his blood pressure, the kinky motherfucker.

Later on, when Valery enters the office, Boris blushes uncontrollably. He cannot make himself face Valery, so he is studying the map on the wall instead. Even Italy seems to be cock-shaped today, for God’s sake!

_“Boris hissed, not able to stand this exquisite torture, and finally pushed his burning length inside._  


_\- God... You are so tight... – he panted...”_

He simply must protect Valery from this indecency!

His cock, however, is very, very happy to see Valery. They obviously got along well last night. Boris has to cover his lap with a news-paper.

\- I hear they delivered that piece of equipment this morning? – Valery asks. - What is the exact size of it, do you know? 

Boris doesn’t know. Boris is in his fantasy land where Valery instead of standing there with serious face is sliding to his knees in front of him with a sultry smile.

\- The size, Boris?

\- Twelve inches when fully e… I mean, what size again?..

Valery waves his hand.

\- Never mind, I’ll find it out myself. Going to get a cup of coffee. Should I get you some, too? How do you like it?

\- Err… - Boris says weakly. – Just nice and hot and… wet… Khm…

Is there going to be no end to this torture, he wonders miserably.

By the next morning, Boris already knows the damn story by heart. And the worst part is, it’s not even complete! Boris only has two pages. He needs to know what happened next! He is so desperate that he even goes to check the same dust bin in mad hope an unknown author decided to present him with a sequel.

Alas, there are no more crumpled papers. Boris tries to write some himself (burning with a shame of it on the way). Having spent an hour scribbling diligently, he finally has to admit that he sucks at writing big time. Most of his pathetic efforts end up with something like:

“And then, he shoved his BIG HUGE COCK right up his ARSE! The End.”

While the unknown author surely has his way with words, that lewd eloquent bastard.

Daily hard-ons are pretty painful and frustrating to say the least. Valery is on Boris’ mind constantly now, and his thoughts are far from decent. Chaste kisses no longer seem attractive.

At the moment, Valery is sitting at his desk, and Boris casually makes his approach. He is now standing next to Valery’s chair.  
_Get a bit closer_ , the voice of unknown author whispers seductively in his head. And Boris does as he’s told. Valery shifts but cannot move away as there is a wall behind him.

\- So… How’s work?..

\- It’s fine, thank you, - Valery says shyly. 

Boris is standing so close that Valery cannot look him in the eye. When answering Boris’ questions, Valery turns his head slightly and is actually kind of speaking to a certain part of Boris. Not the worst part of him, either.

Supermarket strategy: place your best goodies at eye level, within an arm’s reach. Well in this case it’s more like a _tongue’s_ reach, actually.

\- Hmm… Nice weather, huh?.. You’ve got so many documents here… They must be pretty heavy, too, - Boris mumbles. - Good this table is so strong. Bet it could even handle _you_ on it. Were you to… Climb on it for some reason... Khm…

Valery is just blinking at him.

Now wasn’t that witty. Come on, say something smart, for God’s sake! 

\- Like stars? – Boris goes on, pointing at one of Valery’s books on astronomy. – I like shooting stars. They, you know… _shoot_.

\- They do _not_ shoot, Boris. Stars are balls of burning gas several light years away from here.

\- Hmm… Must be pretty _huge_ , those balls of yours… - Boris mutters.

He is actually horrified at all this unintelligible bullshit that’s pouring out of his mouth. As if it were someone else speaking and not himself. Someone not particularly bright, for that matter. 

But the problem is, his cock demands that he stays as close to Valery as possible. So he needs a reason to do so! Would be strange if he were just staying there, without even saying a word, his groin couple of inches from Valery’s face!

\- I see you’re constantly looking at it, - Boris goes on, - You can touch it if you want. It’s okay.

Valery looks like a fish out of the water.

\- Wha… What?.. – he chokes.

\- My belt, of course, - Boris explains. – It’s a special belt that Soviet Marines wear. I was in the marines, you know.

Valery looks confused.

\- _Come on, touch him!_ \- the voice of unknown author is itching inside Boris’ head. – _Touch his nape. His cheek. Don’t be shy, he won’t bite you. And if he does, it will be even…_

\- SHUT UP! – Boris hisses.

\- I am not saying anyth…

\- I am not talking TO YOU, for God’s sake! – Boris barks.

Valery is positively alarmed now.

\- Is everything all right? – he asks hesitantly.

\- No. Yes. No. Actually, I wanted to ask you for a bit of a favor, - Boris finally manages. 

It’s getting hard for him to speak. He is taking an enormous amount of guilty pleasure from this proximity. Anonymous author, that dirty villain, it’s all his fault!.. Boris would love to beat the living shit out of the man. And then make him write a sequel. Or five sequels. Maybe _that_ will teach him a lesson.

Valery is certainly ready to help.

\- But of course… What is this little problem you want me to handle?...

\- Well it’s not that _little_! – Boris says indignantly, – In fact, it’s rather _impressive_ , for your information!

But Boris can’t really think of any problem, except for the most obvious one in his pants. Looking for some inspiration, he shifts his gaze from Valery’s inviting nape to the documents on the table.

“If we look at the probable scientific cause of this thermal explosion, we discover that...”

_Explosion._

_“Boris plunges yet deeper, and Valery feels like he is ready to explode with...”_

_Explo..._

The same shape of “x” with curved corners. The same “p”.

IT’S THE SAME BLOODY HANDWRITING!

No. Can’t be. 

Boris jerks back and stumbles on the way. Valery turns around.

\- What’s wrong? - he asks worriedly.

\- U-m-m-meh, - Boris says.

He takes a deep breath, then fishes two crumpled sheets out of his pocket with shaking fingers and places them in front of Valery.

Silence.  
Valery goes crimson, then makes the little sound of “Oh, no”, then covers his face with his hands.

\- I don’t know how to even start apologizing to you, - Valery finally says in a mortified whisper. - I tried to fight it, believe me... but it was getting worse every day... so I just thought maybe if I pour it out on paper, these desires would go away…

\- Did they? - Boris asks quietly. 

For some reason, he is no longer terrified. In fact, the not-so-anonymous-any-more-author is singing hallelujah and opening champagne in his head.

Valery doesn’t answer, shoulders hunched.

\- Is there anything I can do to earn your forgiveness? Anything at all?.. - he pleads desperately, still not looking up at Boris.

Hmm. Well. That certainly is an interesting question.

\- I might have an idea, - Boris rasps.

He pulls Valery out of his chair and pins him to the wall. Valery is trapped, flushed, bewildered and aroused. 

And then Boris finally, finally, presses his long-suffering groin into Valery, and oh this necessary impact is SO, SO MUCH BETTER that any of the author’s wildest fantasies.


End file.
